


Truth - Book I: Altaïr

by orphan_account



Series: Truth: Books I, II and III [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Previously FF.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nylah is homeless and has no family and therefore no name. She is from Egypt; she secured passage on ship bound for Israel and then bartered passage with a Caravan, to Damascus. There she remained homeless, stealing food locally and working where she could for money. She slept in a different place every night, avoiding violence from the disgruntled locals. Damascus was a big place and Nylah managed to blend into the shadows.</p><p>  <i></i><br/><b>This was previously posted on FF.Net in 2009-ish so the quality of writing is nowhere near as good as the stuff that I post now but I just felt like digging it up out of the archives and putting it out there again because I like the idea and I'd quite like to finish the series. Enjoy and I apologise for the awful writing in advance. I might pick back over it and see if there's anything I can do about that.</b><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nylah - 1189

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have seen from the description, this is an old work; there are quite a few things in it that I'm not happy with but I really like the story line so I'm re-posting it. There are a few grammatical issues but the main thing I wanted to let you know about was the geographical issues;
> 
> I use the country of Israel even though, at the time, Israel didn't exist. This is partly because I have awful geographical knowledge and partly due to the Animus standardisation protocol that Rebecca put in for Assassin's Creed 3 - it'll make sense later.
> 
> There are a few other things that might pop up later such as Arabic translations but we'll deal with that when we come to it :).

The sun was hot on Nylah's olive skin as she sat, proud and tall on her camel - part of a Caravan traveling East to the main port of Egypt, trekking across the barren Desert was taking its toll on the occupants. The Caravan had taken her from Al Quahira to a secluded city called Al Kunayyisah, across the Nile and miles of hot sand dunes that glistened gold in the hot midday sun. The view grew dull after a couple of hours of watching the gold granules pass beneath the feet of her trusty steed.

The Caravan was now less than ten minutes outside the port of Giza - Nylah's final destination before Israel.

Nylah had decided to leave the gold sand dunes of Egypt behind in her quest for a fresh start. She had bartered passage with the Caravan that took her from Al Quahira to Al Kunayyisah, and from there she had met a man - also traveling with the Caravan - who could ensure her safe passage on a ship. It just so happened that this ship was bound for Israel. It had not been Nylah's first choice of locations for a new start but it was the best she could get.

As the Caravan travelled through the gates of the city - after the customary checks for weapons and noting of names - Nylah looked around, amazed. The bright colours of scarves and rugs hanging in the market that took up most of the entrance, the scent of dried herbs and fresh fruits combined into a heady scent that made Nylah gasp as a wave of heat hit her, amplifying the scent. Nylah was in awe; never had she seen a city as magnificent as this, not even Al Quahira itself.

Giza was so beautiful due to the many races that passed through here, bringing with them knowledge and goods in equal measures, and as Nylah looked around she began to notice the sheer volume and variety of people who haggled and bartered around her as she rode past on her camel. Many turned to look at Nylah and her companion - the Caravan had left her and the man who was to ensure her passage and gone to offload goods at their reserved stall. Nylah was accustomed to the staring; she looked nothing like your average Egyptian. Her skin was both Olive and Fair, where as most of Egypt had sun darkened skin. Her eyes were an unnatural green, where most of the populace of Egypt had average brown eyes. And her clothes… Her clothes were like nothing any person in Giza had seen.

Nobody in the Caravan had ever seen clothes like this before either, and so did not make the connection. She wore white trousers made of a thin material, wrapped tight around the bottoms of her legs with bandages and tucked into knee high boots. She had a red sash tied around her waist with a thick leather belt. Her top was a light wrap around, white as the rest of her outfit. She had leather bracers on both of her wrists and her shirt sleeves were ripped short at the shoulder. She finished her outfit with a plain white cloak with a pointed hood that remained up for most of the time.

Due to her Olive skin and her unusual eyes she preferred to keep herself hidden. However, riding through Giza she let her hood fall to her shoulders, exposing her sharp features. Her face was small and friendly, and yet bore a frown. Her eyes showed wisdom beyond her eighteen years, if you looked closely you could see that the girl had witnessed death; she had what many would call 'dead man’s stare'. Her eyes, however beautiful and unnatural they were, had an air of someone haunted.

As Nylah arrived at the Dock in Giza she spotted the 'boat' she would be traveling on. It was a long vessel that came to a raised point at both ends. Nylah could clearly see openings for oars; to compensate when the wind wasn't on their side. She doubted that they would get to Israel within the week, as promised, though. The time did not matter to Nylah, only the distance from her home town.

"Malik." a voice called from ahead.

"Ahri." Malik, the man who had assured her passage called and waved to a man wearing white robes, similar to Nylah's.

"I take it this is Nylah?" The man called Ahri stood before her as she swung down from the camel, he inclined his head and she smiled before repeating his gesture; realising that he couldn't see her face, as she had intended when she put her hood back up after the market place.

"It is good to see you my brother." Malik said, stepping forward and embracing Ahri, slapping his back affectionately.

"And you my brother. Come, we must get you settled in before we set off." Ahri lead the unlikely pair onto the vessel, indicating that she was called the Nautilus, and down into the sleeping quarters.

Every person aboard the vessel slept in the same area below deck, even the captain. It was the biggest vessel Nylah had ever seen, having never been out of her home city.

"How do you like her?" Ahri asked the stunned girl as she found her hammock and settled in for a couple of hours sleep after her long journey.

"She is quite magnificent." Nylah said, smiling at the man clad in white.

"She is, she may not be covered in jewels and gold but she is surely the fastest vessel in these waters." Nylah smiled at the proud look on the mans face as he bid her farewell and good rest before returning above deck to make last minute preparations for the voyage to Israel.


	2. Altaïr - 1189

The wind whipped around the young assassins face as he ran over the rooftops of Masyaf; it felt good to be back in his home village after so long in the big city of Damascus.

"Mister Altaïr, Al Mualim wishes to see you, Sir." a young boy said, catching up to the assassin as he stopped on one of the lower roofs.

"Thank you." Altaïr said, turning to the boy and nodding before continuing his run across the flowing rooftops of the small, dusty village. After Damascus the village felt enclosed and safe; in Damascus Altaïr always felt he had to watch his back, in Masyaf he had people looking out for him. Nobody would bother him without due cause here.

Altaïr quickly made his way to the path that lead up the mountain to the Assassin’s Head-quarters. The building atop the hill was majestic and writhing with people. As he walked through the main archway into the compound he heard the clash of swords from the training ring where he had spent much of his time as a child, either watching or fighting. The corners of Altaïr's mouth curved into something akin to a smile, here in this courtyard was where he felt most at home.

Altaïr walked up the steps to an area that overlooked the training ring, looking to his right he walked through a door and up a set of curved stairs. He had traced this path so many times before as Al Mualim wished to speak with him, he had no doubt he would walk this path many times yet.

"Ah, Altaïr." Al Mualim said from behind his modest desk situated before a vast window. He was surrounded by messenger pigeon coops that served as his contact to the field.

"You wished to speak with me." Altaïr said, politely. He felt no affection for the man but still, he had to remember his place and no matter what his place among the assassins, it would always be below this man.

"Yes, I have another assignment for you. It is in Damascus. I am glad you kept your good relations there in your last assignment, you're going to need them. This is a long mission; I expect you to stay there for some months conducting research for our next target and their family." Al Mualim said, handing Altaïr a scroll.

Altaïr unravelled the scroll and read; _Assistant, Malik A-Sayf._

"Assistant?" the white robed man asked, looking to the older figure sat behind the desk garbed in black.

"Yes, a promising young recruit. Malik. He has a sister in the town, she has been working in the kitchens recently. I believe you know her. Amira?" Al Mualim raised his greying eyebrow at Altair.

"Yes, I taught her a little swordplay to persuade her to leave the training ground." Altaïr once again let that rare smile cross his lips as he thought back to the night sparring with the young girl. She was only thirteen and fought with strength beyond her years.

"Yes, you leave for Damascus tomorrow. Be ready and gone by the sixth hour." Al Mualim said, dismissing his student; less that please by the look on Altaïr's face as he recalled sparring with the young assassin’s sister. He would have to fix that.


	3. Altaïr - 1190

Altaïr skirted the large tower that shot up between the buildings, favouring the flat roofs in his attempt to find his assistant Malik and escape from the city of Damascus.

The mission had gone horribly wrong.

Malik's father and brother, Ajihad and Jeod, had been the targets. Malik had discovered Al Mualim’s true orders despite Altaïr’s deception and had not taken the truth well - though Altaïr had not expected him to hence the need for secrecy, vowing to never return to Masyaf. Altaïr had tried to convince him otherwise but had failed dismally and so was reduced to chasing Malik across the city to force him to return to Masyaf or face the fate of a traitor. Death.

"Death is no better than this fate." Malik called back as Altaïr caught up to him across a gap. Malik had stumbled and it had cost him, he lost speed and therefore distance in his plight to escape Altaïr.

"Malik think about your sister." Altaïr dug into his memory and pulled out a name, "Amira would hate it if you were to leave her, I'm sure she would hate it equally if you were to be deemed a traitor, hunted and publicly executed." He called, getting agitated as their chase attracted the much unwanted attention of a passing rooftop guard.

"Amira has _no_ part in this conversation Altaïr, you leave her out of this!" Malik cried, halting abruptly and turning to face the man in question.

"She has every part in this, Malik. She is your sister. With your father and brother in hiding it will be your job to look after her, who will she have to look up to if you are gone too?" Altaïr called, trying to reason with the delusional trainee.

"But of course Altaïr, I never knew you were the _caring_ type." Malik spat bitterly, looking around for guards as he and Altaïr continued to argue.

"Malik, think about it," Altaïr said, his voice softer now, but still carrying over the wind and the cries from the marketplace below, "If you were to be trialled for treason, don't you think it appropriate that your mentor of eight months be the one to commit the deed and scrub you from the earth." 

Altaïr paused and sighed, "We kill so easily Malik. We kill others so easily. Yet when it is one of our own to be killed, we find it no harder. We say it is for the greater good but I believe that it is because we have lost our souls. If you cast yourself out like this and force me to do what has to be done, you are forfeiting your soul, and damaging mine further. I will tell your sister the truth and she will never forgive you. I know it seems a crude way to do this but it is the best way that I know. Malik, be better. Do not kill."

Malik looked at his sentimental mentor and sighed, admitting defeat. He hated to do it but he knew that Altaïr was right, killing tore the soul.

"Altaïr... Can we not mention this to Al Mualim." Malik asked his mentor as he, sheepishly walked towards him.

"Hear no evil, speak no evil." Altaïr intoned, throwing his arm around Malik as they walked from the rooftops, earning shouts from the guards.

***

It had not been long since Altaïr persuaded Malik, his rebellious co-worker, to rejoin the cause for the sake of his young sister Amira. Malik and Altaïr lay in the assassins Bureau of Damascus, relaxing after a hard weeks work gathering information before painting the target.

Malik had fired a fake report back to Al Mualim by messenger pigeon, it would take a couple of hours to get there at most. Malik and Altaïr intended to pretend to assassinate Malik's family and send them into hiding. Altaïr had his doubts about the plan but did not voice his concerns to his enthusiastic assistant.

While Malik finished up the details of the plan, Altaïr took a walk over the rooftops to clear his head; he needed to be focused, he didn't want to let Malik down after he had convinced him to sit through his days as an assassin.

"You there! Girl! _Stop!_ " Altaïr hear a cry from the market below " _ **THIEF!**_ " Altaïr cringed as he heard the yell of 'thief'. A sure way to get someone executed was to call them a thief in the busiest place in the city.

Altaïr looked over the edge of the building to see a girl running through the streets into two guards, he pulled out two throwing knives and took a steady aim at the guards but the girl dodged them and dashed into an alley across the street from the building that Altaïr stood on.

Altaïr dashed across some hanging planks and onto the building along the alley that the accused girl had ducked into. He looked down, trying to spot the girl among the mingling people. It wasn't particularly difficult as the girl was sprinting through the crowd but barely knocking anyone; strangely she reminded Altaïr of himself, hidden in the crowd. He stopped at the end of the building and looked left and right below him. He spotted the sun-bleached hair and ragged clothes slipping through the crowd, he looked back and saw the guards closing in. He quickly dispatched both of them and moved before anyone traced the place the knives originated from; the last thing Altaïr needed was a guards chasing him. Suddenly the girl looked back over her shoulder, looking up at him as if she knew that the blades had come from him, like she knew he was her guardian angel, watching over her.

Her eyes were a shocking green from under her pointed hood that looked remarkably like the assassins robes Altaïr wore. Thoughts began to buzz around Altaïr's mind as he thought about the implications of this likeness; _she could be an assassin, that would explain her being able to slip through the crowd._

Altaïr tried to understand what was going on as he followed the girl and her entourage of guards through the city, flowing with her every move as she sprinted and feigned to try and loose the guards.

_Don't anticipate. Don't anticipate._

Altaïr repeated that rule over and over in his head as he watched the girl, following the most delicate twitches in her body that the guards couldn't see, to determine where the girl was going. Then Altaïr made a huge mistake, something he did very rarely.

_He anticipated._

Altaïr let his guard down for a second, seeing that the girl was tiring, and let himself follow a worn path that the girl may have followed. She didn't.  
He lost his line of sight for a second and the girl was gone, disappearing into the crowd. She was good, he'd give her that; but Altaïr was better. He just had to see a glimpse of her again.

_There!_

He saw a white cape flick in the crowd, stained with dust and blood; it had to be the girl. It had to be. Altaïr would never forgive himself if any harm came to the young child because he had lost sight of her. He continued to follow, watching her progress and growing more and more impressed with every turn... until the girl made a grave mistake. She dashed into an empty but open street. The guards cornered her and she flattened herself to the wall, Altaïr watching and waiting as they threatened to kill her.

"No." Altaïr breathed.


	4. Nylah - 1190

Israel was a lonely place. Nylah found herself as lost and lonely as she had been in her home city. She was helplessly alone in a large city called Damascus. She had been there for a few months after bartering passage with a Caravan from the main docks of Israel.

Nylah found that she knew her way around Damascus and could find the best places to scrounge food and the best places to sleep; that didn't change the fact that she had no home, no family, no friends and had to relocate every night for fear of being caught. Damascus didn't like vagrants.

"You there! _Girl! Stop!_ " A mans voice cried as Nylah's hand darted from the container of apples and she ran, a flash of red in her hand.

She ate the apple as she fled, the juice dripping down her chin as she avoided angry bystanders whilst trying to save her hide from the stall keeper.

" _ **THIEF!**_ " Nylah cringed as she heard the cry. The surest way to stop a person in a city was to accuse them of theft. The punishment for theft was death.

Instantly Nylah saw two guards block her path, hands on the hilts of their swords. She avoided them by darting down an alleyway and quickly running across a busy street; hoping to get lost in the crowds. Her efforts were in vain as the sight of the guards made the crowds part. They saw her across the street and sprinted after her, brandishing swords and shouting threats. She paid no mind and concentrated on getting out of there.

Nylah looked up, instantly deciding that the best way to avoid them was the rooftops. She had gained much experience in running the rooftops as a child and knew that on the roofs she would have the advantage. Before she jumped on the ladder she glance behind her, checking that she wasn't going to run into any guards heading in her direction. As she looked up she saw a glint of red and white; a man stood on the rooftop behind her. He had white robes similar to her own but less worn and not covered in blood and dust. She froze, looking up at the tall figure; his golden eyes boring into hers. He gestured to her to keep running and she obeyed, sprinting off but not focusing. She found herself backed into a corner, surrounded by guards. Her idiom of 'Blade in the crowd' had not rang true in this incident. She was cornered.

" _Shlita 'atzmit*._ Keep your head clear." Nylah breathed to herself, focusing on the guards surrounding her. She had to get out. Somehow.

" _Hey, thief!_ Give back what you stole or face death." The guard in the centre of the pack, directly opposite Nylah, called.

"I face death even if I were to return the apple. I face death every day." Nylah called back, steeling herself for a fight; even if the odds were against her, she could still try.  
She pulled a knife from the back of her robes, it wasn't much against the swords of the guards but if used correctly it would buy her a few seconds to pray.

She quietly repeated the prayer that the Rabbi of her Egyptian home called at dinner, quietly to herself, " _Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale koulon moumkine._ These are the words spoken by our-" She was cut off by a sword flying towards her left side, she ducked to the right and threw a knife from her belt at the guard; continuing her muttering "Ancestors. Where others blindly follow the truth, _remember-_ " She ducked to the right, avoiding a swipe as she continued her mantra "Nothing is true. Where others are bound by law and Morality, _remember_ ; everything is permitted".

She hissed as the tip of a sword grazed her face, she had tried to dodge the attack but failed. She felt a warm wetness trickling down her face as the wound seared with white hot pain. " _Shlita 'atzmit._ Control, feel no pain. Fight through." Nylah hissed to herself as she continued to duck and dive, slashing at the guards in a graceful manner, oblivious to the streak of pain beneath her eye or the fresh blood staining her robes.

The fight was going badly. Nylah's head was spinning from the pain as she tried as hard as she could to block out the burning, to no avail. She swiped at the neck of a guard, catching him and causing blood to pour down his uniform as he clutched his throat. The spluttering guard made a stab at Nylah as he fell but was blocked by a red and white blur. A large figure dropped between Nylah and the guard, blocking the blow with his own sword and stabbing at the remaining guards.

"Thank you." Nylah gasped as the figure protected her.

"Be prepared to flee if they get past me. Take to the rooftops, not many of them can reach you there, you’ll have a better chance to get away." The figure said, spinning and slashing at the midriff of one guard before following through with the move and delivering a crushing blow to another guards leg.

"I wont leave you, not after you helped me." Nylah said, determined and standing ready at the mans side.

"Fine, but if I die you must run. Go north and find the bureau of assassins. Talk to Malik and tell him what has happened to me." The man said, parrying a blow from a mace before slicing at the arm holding it. The bloody stump fell in to the ground, staining the dust of the desert town red.

Nylah stood by the mans side, fighting fiercely; her energy and vigor renewed by the arrival of the mysterious stranger.

"Do I even get to know your name? Just in case you do die." Nylah called as she punched a guard in the face before stabbing him where he lay.

"I am Altaïr ibn La-Ahad." The man called "And you are?"

They stood back to back and continued to fight off guard after guard as they protected each other; although Nylah firmly believed that this mysterious Altaïr would not need saving.

"I am Nylah." The girl called over the ring of swords. The guards numbers were thinning now and Nylah could see the ladder leading to the rooftops again. If only they could make it.

"Altaïr ibn La-Ahad, do you trust me?" Nylah said, sidestepping the man in question and running her sword - taken from a dead guard - through the stomach of another advancing guard.

"What choice do I have." Altaïr's accented voice reached Nylah's ears and she smiled mischievously; praying that her plan would work.

"On my Mark, follow me." Nylah called, before beginning to count "eh'ad, shnyim, shlosha**; mark".

Nylah sprinted through the remaining guards, Altaïr close on her tail. He jumped onto the ladder behind Nylah, climbing as fast as his limbs would allow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Translation: Self Control.   
> ** Translation: One, two, three. (I apologise for any mistakes in Masculinity and Femininity of words)
> 
> The other Arabic words are the prayer recited at the start of the first game by Al Mualim. I'm not quite sure of the meaning - researching it has been pretty useless and translators aren't much better.


	5. Altaïr - Rafiq's Jibes

"On my Mark, follow me." Nylah called, before beginning to count " _Eh'ad, shnyim, shlosha*_ ; mark".

Nylah sprinted through the remaining guards, Altaïr close on her tail. He jumped onto the ladder behind Nylah, climbing as fast as his limbs would allow.

He took a look behind him and called ahead "Nylah." His voice was uncertain and panicked, unusual for Altaïr as far as she had seen, "Move faster, they're on the ladder."

Nylah visibly picked up her pace and they reached the rooftop just as the guard at the front of the pack made a grab for Altaïr's foot. Altaïr kicked the man in the face, causing him to tumble backward from the ladder and past his panicking fellows.

"Come on." Nylah grabbed Altaïr's arm as he stood at the top of the ladder, waiting for any more of the guards.

"I'm not leaving, they can still get up." Nylah instantly came to the conclusion that Altaïr was extremely stubborn.

Altaïr watched as Nylah knelt before the ladder and cut the ropes securing it to the roof, causing it to topple back as the guards cried in shock.

"Now, come on." Altaïr sighed but followed the young girl none the less. He wanted to make sure she got back to the Bureau or somewhere equally safe, and as he was heading there he saw no reason not to accompany her.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Nylah asked, picking up on Altaïr's annoyance as they ran back to the Bureau.

Altaïr remained silent, trying to wrap his head around Nylah's previous statement and figure out a way to answer. He didn't have a chance as Malik skidded onto the rooftop in front of them as they reached the Bureau.

"Altaïr, I heard the fighting, are you okay?" Malik was stressing as he stood, visibly on edge, taking in the pair stood before him.

"I'm fine Malik, I jumped in to help the kid." Altaïr indicated Nylah, stood beside him "Before she got herself killed."

"What!" Malik cried "You know the rules about keeping to yourself. _Hide in plain sight and **never** compromise the Brotherhood._ "

Altaïr was taken aback and stood in silence, waiting for Nylah to defend herself as so many would against the accusation that they would betray us. Nylah said nothing.

Altaïr looked to his left to find her gone.

"Do not presume to lecture me on keeping to the Creeds. Malik, the guards were chasing her, she could be dead. Have you forgotten the first and **most important** tenet, _stay your blade from the flesh of innocents_ ; leaving her to die at the hands of the guards would only be as bad." Altaïr clicked his tongue and then turned, sprinting after Nylah and leaving Malik to contemplate Altaïr's parting words.

Malik sighed and followed his friend, not wishing to return to Al Mualim with the news that his favourite was dead.

***

Altaïr sprinted across the rooftops, searching frantically for the young girl with the bleached white hair. He refuse to let her stay in Damascus, he would even drop her off at Acre if he thought she would be safer there. However, he did not; Altaïr knew that the guards of Acre were even less tolerant of thieves than the guards of Damascus.

" **Nylah.** " He called, seeing her white hair ahead. He looked around, trying to find a way to get ahead of the crowds she was immersed in. As he looked he saw the dark green padded tunics of a group of guards, moving in Nylah's direction. Instantly he pulled back into his hood further in an attempt to hide his face as he took another look around for Nylah; she had disappeared.

"Altaïr." He heard Malik hiss behind him "Come on." Malik grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the crowd towards a group of nearby monks; as they blended into the group Altaïr saw the guards walk past, not paying the slightest bit of notice.

"What were you thinking, running off like that?" Malik breathed as they walked with the monks, who accepted them without a second glance.

"I have to find her Malik, I think she's an Assassin." Altaïr looked around, trying to find the guards that had walked past; 'they must know where Nylah is else they wouldn't have been here' he thought as Malik continued to lead him with the monks around the poor district of Damascus.

"Fine," Malik sighed, "Come on, we'll go together and then split up, so we can find her faster and then continue _our mission._ "

Altaïr cursed under his breath; he had completely forgotten about his mission to protect Malik's family. He vowed to do it as soon as he found the girl.

"Okay, I'll take the rooftops; you blend better in the crowds." Malik nodded his agreement and then walked from the group of monks. Altaïr waited until they were near a ladder before parting following Malik and parting from the group. He ran up the ladder as fast as he could, quickly hiding in a roof garden as he saw a guard approaching.

"Altaïr." he heard a small voice whisper beside him.

"Nylah, what are you doing up here?" Altaïr asked, relieved that he had found her so easily.

"Well, I'd say I'm doing the exact same thing that you are; hiding from that damn guard. He hasn't stopped patrolling since I got here, he almost caught me." Nylah glared at the wall of the garden where she assumed the guard would be. It turned out she was wrong.

"Infidel, die." The heard a cry as the guard jabbed his sword into the garden, trying to hit them.

Nylah cursed as the guards sword sliced through her clothing and bit into the flesh of her arm. Their cover was blown.

"Go, Nylah." Altaïr hissed, pushing her from the garden and following her.

They sprinted across the rooftops, avoiding other guards riled by the chase. They continued to run as arrows flew past them, rustling the material of their clothes. They had no choice but to run, if they stopped they would be killed, and while assassin's did not fear death Altaïr did not want to die before he ensured that Malik and his family were safe. That included Malik's Assassin brother, Kadar.

Nylah lead as they sprinted across the rooftops towards the Bureau, trying to loose the guards by darting to and fro in a helix pattern. By the time they actually reached the Bureau they had lost the guards and found Malik, who was fuming at Altaïr's blatant disregard of the second Tenet; _Hide in plain sight._

"Altaïr." He panted as all three of them dropped through the roof hatch into the pleasant, brightly lit room, "Next time you intend to bring someone into the Bureau, maybe you should let the Rafiq know first." Malik stood straight - he had been doubled over, panting - and indicated the doorway where the Rafiq stood, a blade in his hand.

"Altaïr," The Rafiq sneered "What a surprise that it is you who disregards our ways and not another. I cannot say that I am surprised."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *See previous chapter for translation of Arabic.


	6. Nylah - Flashbacks

Nylah stood in the Bureau, the soft light and incense lulling her into calm. In contrast to that calm, the Rafiq stood in the doorway, a short blade clutched in his iron grip. Instantly any feeling of safety dissipated. She knew that she was in danger.

"Rafiq." Nylah gasped as he advanced on her, a threatening look in his eye "I am of your kind."

"That cannot be true." The Rafiq stood, staring at the young girl before him before sighing and asking "What does the creed live by?"

"The Creed lives by three tenets; _Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent, hide in plain sight_ and _never compromise the Brotherhood_. We see that 'Nothing is True and Everything is Permitted'. This statement is intended to bring us wisdom and guide our blade to the flesh of the wicked." Nylah gasped out as the Rafiq continued to lean closer, blade held high.

The Rafiq sighed "You know what only we could know, welcome to the Bureau of Damascus…" The Rafiq looked at Nylah expectantly.

"Nylah am Cairo." She said, before she uttered the customary greeting, as she was taught in the Fortress of Cairo "I thank you for offering me your hospitality, Rafiq."

The Rafiq smiled and said "Welcome Assassin." before turning to Altaïr, whose face was a mask of calm, and saying "Well, maybe my initial greeting was a little harsh. Welcome Altaïr and Welcome Malik." before walking back into his office whilst calling over his shoulder "You may rest here until you are ready to proceed with your mission."

"Mission?" Nylah turned to Altaïr.

"I'll tell you about it later." Altaïr muttered in his usual low voice of calm "Why didn't introduce yourself to me as an Assassin?"

"I did not know that you would accept me, my mother taught me to be wary, as did the Assassin's of Cairo." Nylah said, before sitting on the cushions near Altaïr and Malik and descending into a haze of thoughts and emotions.

***

_"Nylah, you should come inside now, it's getting dark."_

_"Yes Mamma." Nylah called, running through the door of their modest house in the town centre._

_Nylah sat at the table in their kitchen while her mother prepared a supper for Nylah's father, who was due to be returning home from work any time now._

_"Nylah, shly ah'ava, are you here." Nylah heard her fathers voice from the door and ran out to greet him, jumping into his waiting arms._

_"Pappa." She cried._

_Her father laughed and set her down beside the table before moving to her mother and hugging her; asking what was for supper before sitting down at the table._

_Nylah sat across from her father, his huge form sitting slouched in his chair._

_Nylah's mother started asking about his day but Nylah could not understand what they were talking about, she was an intelligent child; she understood the words but could not put them to a subject. Instead she sat at the table, playing with a puzzle her father had brought her back one day. It was a small box with dice in it; each die had a letter on each side. Nylah shook the box gently and tried to form words from the letters that faced upwards.  
When her father had brought it for her she had been overjoyed and played with it for hours, expanding her knowledge._

_Nylah's mother looked on, proud of her little girl. She could not imagine what she would do if anything happened to her._

_"Mamma." Nylah said, looking up at her mother, stood over her "What is wrong Mamma?" she asked, a mask of concern across her small face._

_"Nothing, shly ah'ava, why don't you go to bed, we have a big day tomorrow." Nylah's mother ruffled her hair before patting her back, affectionately ushering her into her bedroom._

_Nylah lay in her bed, thinking about the word box that she had left on the table. She wished she had brought it with her, she knew that she wouldn't sleep any time soon. Her mother came to blow out Nylah's candle and tuck her into bed, kissing her forehead gently and wishing her good night._

_"Good night Mamma." Nylah called "Good night Pappa."_

_"Good night Nylah." Her father called through the wall, his voice was muffled; he was evidently eating his supper before retiring to his room as Nylah had. Nylah let her eyes close as she imagined bright colours twisting into shapes in the sky. Before she knew it she was drifting into sleep._

_She was awoken some hours later by a scuffling in the kitchen. Nylah recognised the sound as footsteps._

_"Mamma" She whispered. The scuffling stopped._

_Then the young girl heard a sound she would never forget. Her Mamma screamed loudly, calling out to Nylah to run._

_" **Mamma!** " Nylah screamed, not fully understanding what was happening.  
The young girl ran into her mother and father's bedroom, freezing in the doorway. In the moonlight streaming through the open window, Nylah saw a man. He was wearing a white cloak with a hood. He had a knife in his hand and Nylah saw a glint of red drip from the blade._

_Nylah froze._

_She was sensible and knew that she could do nothing to save her parents. Not from this man. The giant silhouette of the man hung over Nylah as she thought quickly. She had to escape this man, but how would she do it? She had to keep him talking._

_"What are you doing to my Mamma?" Nylah said, her voice confident. Not betraying the fear she felt._

_"I am carrying out my orders." The man said, his voice was soft and not at all sinister._

_"And who gives you your orders? Why my Mamma and Pappa?" Nylah continued to think through her escape plans as she talked to the man; trying to glean a tiny bit of information about him and why he was here whilst playing the innocent child._

_"Someone very important gives me my orders. Your Pappa has angered this person and so he sees fit to punish your father." The man turned to look at Nylah. His face was strong and smooth, his eyes a shocking gold. He looked young, but was still around four times the size of Nylah._

_"So why are you hurting my Mamma?" Nylah was transfixed by the man's eyes, they were like the Honey her father brought back from his trip across the country the previous year._

_"Your Mother has been very noble, she is a good soul and has sacrificed her life so you may live. The only condition is that I ensure your safety by taking you with me back to Cairo, to become one of my family." The man looked at my mother and she nodded._

_"Mamma." Nylah gasped, in shock that her mother would promise such a thing._

_"It's for your own good Nylah, go with him, he will keep you safe." And with that Nylah was ushered from the room to wait for the man who was busy taking his mother and father's lives. She had never felt so alone._

__

***

Nylah gasped awake to see golden eyes above her.

"No, let me go! My Mamma! You killed my Mamma!" Nylah cried, pressing her eyes closed as tears brimmed over, pouring down her face.

Altaïr pulled her into him, hugging her tight, whispering "Nylah, it's okay, you're safe now."

"But I'm not safe. It was you! You did it, I swear it was you." Nylah continued to cry into Altaïr's shoulder. The normally cold Altaïr hugged Nylah close, cooing her softly as she drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

"Malik." He breathed "We need to complete our mission while she sleeps, then we have to see Al Mualim."

Malik nodded and went to speak to the Rafiq, ensuring that if Nylah awoke he would keep her there until Altaïr returned.


	7. Altaïr - The Mission

Altaïr and Malik sprinted, side by side, across the now familiar rooftops of Damascus; they were heading for Malik's family home where his father and brother now waited for their arrival. Malik had run ahead to tell them of the plan to assassinate them, and Malik and Altaïr's plan to get them out of the city.

"Malik, are you okay?" Altaïr called as he saw his partner fall behind from the corner of his eye. He turned.

"I'm fine, just a little tired." He called back, walking over to Altaïr and falling at his feet. "Just a few minutes rest and I'll be fine." He breathed gently, his eyes fluttering closed.

Altaïr caught him, feeling something warm and sticky on his back. He pulled his hand from behind Malik and saw it painted red with his friends blood.

"Malik!" Altaïr cried, falling to his knees beside him.

"Infidel, die." Altaïr heard that all too familiar call as an arrow whistled past his head, narrowly missing his nose. He looked to the source of the arrow and saw a solitary guard slowing his run to aim his bow more accurately.

Altaïr stood quickly, avoiding the first arrow fired in his direction. The guard quickly knocked another, taking steady aim. Before he had chance to fire, Altaïr was on him, avenging his friends injury before sprinting back to Malik.

"Malik, wake up." He said, lifting his friend into his arms.

"Altaïr? What happened? Why is it so cold?" Malik questioned groggily.

"The guard." Altaïr said, carrying his friend whilst sprinting away from the corpse that he had pitched over the rooftop into the street, "He hit you with an arrow, I don't think it's too serious." He tried to reassure his friend, and himself. Malik would not die. Could not die.  
Altaïr pushed himself harder, ran faster, in a concerted effort to save his partners life.

***

Nylah jolted awake for a second time. Upon finding Altaïr gone she felt desperately alone. Then she remembered that Altaïr had said that he had Malik had a mission to complete.

"Rafiq." She called, climbing to her feet quickly and running to the door of the Rafiq's office.

"Yes." The Rafiq appeared in the doorway, concern painted over his usual sneer.

"What was Altaïr's mission? Where is he?" Nylah was panicked, the loneliness clawing at her insides. In all the months that she had spent in Damascus, she had never missed human company. Meeting Altaïr had stirred something within her that craved comfort and company.

"I am not at liberty to discuss his mission. However I can tell you that he will be at Malik's family home, beside the Damascus Temple." The Rafiq nodded to Nylah as she thanked him and moved to leave.

"Be careful Nylah am Cairo, the guards are jittery today." Were the Rafiq's parting words as he handed her a hidden blade from the shelf beside the door and returned to his spot behind the desk.

"Thank you Rafiq, I will not forget your kindness. Safety and Peace." Nylah said, walking from the room.

"Be upon you too." Nylah heard the Rafiq call as she climbed the wall to the roof hatch, climbing onto the roof before strapping on the hidden blade and hooking the mechanism around her little finger. She flexed her hand and the blade sung through the air, springing forth from it's sheath and taking the place of her ring finger. When she thought about it, Nylah couldn't see how Altaïr didn't know she was an Assassin just from her finger. She put it to the back of her mind; if she didn't move now she would never get the chance to ask him.

She sprinted across the level rooftops surrounding the Bureau, looking intently for any sign of Altaïr. She skidded to a stop as she saw a drip of dark liquid on the floor that look unsettlingly like blood. She knelt down and dipped her index and middle finger in the liquid. The came away scarlet. She was right.

Nylah followed the trail of small drops to a larger puddle. It then smeared a little into a footprint. The footprint lead away until the person evidently realised that they were leaving a trail and ended with a scrubbed patch of red in the dust. Yet there was no body in sight. The blood was sill wet so it couldn’t have been there long or it would have dried in the hot sun.  
As Nylah thought over what might have happened she heard a commotion in the streets below. She walked to the edge of the building, casting a shadow down onto the streets. She saw the body of a guard laying in the centre of the cobbled main street. It had clearly been thrown from the rooftop she stood on, possibly the exact same spot that she stood right now.

Nylah saw the people in the street look at her shadow and look up at the rooftop but before they could see her she darted from view, following another track of blood that lead to the edge of the building, from the original puddle. She reconstructed the scene in her mind.

...

_A faceless man stands, facing a guard. The guard fires an arrow at the man, catching him in the shoulder or somewhere equally non-lethal. The guard then slows his run to line up his shot better. This is when the faceless man strikes, killing the guard and leaving a small trail of blood. He throws the guard from the rooftop and begins to run away, scrubbing his foot when he realised he was trailing the guards blood - possibly his blood - after him._

...

"Altaïr, what have you been up to?" Nylah whispered, looking in the direction of the bloody footprints.

She sprinted after them, following a straight trail but looking around as she ran. Suddenly someone grabbed her arm.

"What the-" She spun around and saw Altaïr with his finger to his lips. He beckoned for her to follow before picking up a figure that was slumped on the floor behind him.

"Malik?" Nylah gasped "Altaïr, he's dying."

Nylah took Malik from Altaïr and put him on the floor, kneeling over him and placing her hand on his cheek, trying to shake him awake.

"Malik, Malik you have to wake up." Nylah hissed, shaking him gently.

Malik's eyes fluttered open and he mumbled "Is Altaïr okay?"

Altaïr knelt beside Malik, reassuring him that he was fine while Nylah tore a strip of cloth from her cloak.

"Altaïr, help me roll him over." Nylah said, moving to Malik's side. Altaïr did as Nylah asked and soon Malik was laying on his front, his wound open for Nylah to see clearly.

"Keep him talking." She ordered, stripping off Malik's top and inspecting the wound. The arrow remained buried in his flesh but Nylah knew that if she could get the arrow out he would be fine. He was breathing fine and wasn't dead yet, meaning that the arrow had missed most major organs in his chest area. She felt around the wound before deducing that it had passed between his ribs. She sighed and instructed Altaïr to hold Malik steady as she prepared to pull the arrow out. Malik groaned in pain as she touched the wood of the shaft. Nylah sighed.

"I'm sorry Malik, there's no painless way to do this. It's going to hurt." She said, trying to be as gentle as possible as she felt around the wound.

"Just get it out." Malik moaned.

"Okay, ready." Nylah counted from three and began to pull the arrow out. Malik cried out in pain.

"Keep him quiet." Nylah hissed as the arrow-head began to surface. With a quick yank the arrow came out and Malik cried out into Altaïr's hand.

Nylah wrapped the strip of material she had torn from her robes around his chest after wadding another strip of material over the wound. Dressing Malik quickly, Nylah and Altaïr ran towards Malik's family home. Nylah did not know the mission but she knew that they had to be at Malik's home.

***

"Altaïr, tell me the mission." Nylah cried, pacing back and forth in front of Altaïr.

"Nylah, if I tell you the mission Al Mualim will kill you." Altaïr sighed "If you really wish to know then I will tell you, but you must hear me out before you pass judgement on my actions."

Nylah and Altaïr sat across from each other at the table of Malik's family home while Malik's father and younger brother quickly finished packing sparing supplies for a journey that would take them the better part of a month.

Altaïr and Malik had decided to send Malik's family to Egypt, to Cairo and then further south to the more remote regions. Malik was certain that Al Mualim's reach did not extend that far, Altaïr was not sure but did not want to be pessimistic; especially not when his friend was wounded and fretting.

"Malik, sit down." Altaïr sighed, looking over to his friend who was rushing around helping his little brother pack up, occasionally stopping and leaning against the wall for support. "If you don't rest you'll never get back to Masyaf."

"I do not care about getting back to Masyaf, only that my family is safe." Malik continued to walk brusquely around the small house, grabbing random objects of use such as blankets, clothes and food.

"Malik you are not thinking." Altaïr stood and placed his hand on his friends shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"I am thinking… I am…" Malik trailed off and sighed, complying with Altaïr and, finally, sitting down to rest while Altaïr helped his family.


	8. Nylah - The Past

Nylah and Malik remained seated at the table of Malik's family home whilst Altaïr moved around, calmly aiding in the preparations to leave.

"Nylah, tell me, what was all of that in the Bureau? You said that Altaïr killed your mother? How do you know it was him?" Malik asked, idly playing with the hemming of his robes.

"Don't you think it's a good idea to change your robes, you can't walk back to Al Mualim covered in your own blood." Nylah said, staring at the floor between her brown, soft soled boots.

"Avoidance is only going to work for so long, Nylah. Eventually you're going to have to face up to the what you said or saw." Malik said, standing and walking into the room behind where Nylah sat; presumably to change his robes.

Altaïr walked into the room and took Malik's place, sitting calm and composed in the chair opposite Nylah.

"Malik has a point. I want to know why you thought I killed your mother, but I'm not going to pressure you for answers." Altaïr's voice remained calm and level, devoid of all emotion. As cold as it had been before he set foot in Damascus.

"I am sorry Altaïr, genuinely I am and I swear to tell you of the entire thing, in my own time." Nylah said softly, still staring at the dusty floor between her feet.

Altaïr nodded his understanding before walking into the room to the right of Malik's to continue the preparations for leaving. Nylah remained seated at the table, thinking of the man she had seen that night. The looked so alike, and yet she knew they were not the same.

***

_After her mother had bargained for her life Nylah travelled with her mother and father's killer, through many small villages, desserts, across the Nile to a secluded fortress surrounded by a small village. The place, Nylah learned, was called Qasr Hur._

_Nylah came to call the small village home, as her mother's killer did. Even though he lived there, she never saw him again after the night they had arrived and he had left her in the care of an elderly woman by the name of Samara. Though she sensed his golden eyes on her, keeping her safe and fulfilling her mother's promise. She was thankful for that.  
And so Nylah remained in the small village until she was thirteen, of legal age to marry… And to train in the fortress that she had been forbidden to enter since her arrival._

_As she walked through the large gates embedded with iron studs she remembered a time when she was eight. She had tried to sneak up into the fortress, thinking that she was a master of stealth. She managed to reach the gate without getting caught and proceeded to try and scale the walls. Her attempt was cut off when a man appeared above her on the wall, making her jump._

__"What are you doing up there?" She remembered asking, her small voice sounding frail in the dark night air.

"I am here to make sure you get home safely little one." The man had jumped down and took her hand, walking her to her door and greeting Samara before bidding Nylah good night and leaving.

Nylah never tried to get into the fortress again for she knew that the man would be waiting to bring her home safe, which was the one thing Nylah didn't want to be. Safe.

_Nylah was reckless. And so when she first walked through the doors and understood what happened at the fortress she threw herself into training, trying to become the best and eventually avenge her parents. It was when she first saw Al Mualim that she reconsidered and understood what it was to be one of his kind. To be an Assassin._

This was the first time that she had heard the Assassin's motto spoken with such conviction. It stayed with her through the remainder of her training and she became less reckless and more wise. She live by three simple tenets; stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent, hide in plain sight and never compromise the Brotherhood. These three tenets, along with the knowledge that nothing was true, made her stronger than anyone could have imagined, stronger than she could have hoped. It was not long before she was trusted with her first mission, but first she had to fully complete her training. To do this she had to execute a Leap of Faith.

She remembered the cold wind on her face as she stood on that platform looking down into the bale of hay, the strong words called to her from behind as she stared into the face of death.

"Walk by faith not by sight, my child."

And with that she had closed her eyes and thrown herself from the platform in a graceful dive, laughing madly as she sailed through the air, landing on her back in the bale of hay. She stood shakily, coming down from her adrenaline buzz. As other Assassin's rushed forward to congratulate her she saw a face in the crowd, burning golden eyes watching her. Then she knew that she was walking by sight, but not her own. He was keeping her safe.

***

"Nylah, come on we have to go." Malik said, waving his hand in front of her face.  
She looked up at him, noting that he didn't look as pale as he had earlier, and nodded before standing.

"Sorry, I was miles away." She said, walking to the door "Are we ready to leave?" She scratched her head absentmindedly, looking over at Malik with a tired glance.

"Yes, we are. We are planning to leave my family at the nearest dock and let them continue on their own. Al Mualim thinks we are on the way to Masyaf and we cannot afford to spend the time escorting them, as much as I would like to ensure their safety." Malik said, brushing past Nylah.

She noted that he had replaced his robes with clean ones that no longer exposed the bandage covering his wounded back, there was also considerably less blood covering these robes.

"Okay." Nylah said, unable to think of anything as she reflected on her day-dreaming. How had she remembered the breeze so clearly, and those golden eyes. They were like liquid sand and honey, a beautiful mix of bitter-sweetness and cold irony. The sand was warm, dry, safe. The honey was sweet and sticky; a perfect mix of goodness, with a beautiful transparent yellow sparkling in the sunlight like solid amber. And yet, those eyes belonged to an Assassin.

Nylah walked out into the street, sitting beside the fountain in the main square and waiting for Malik to catch up. She looked into the water, seeing the piercing green of her eyes reflected in the surface. Those eyes belonged to an Assassin.

She ran her finger across the surface, disturbing the reflection and sending ripples out in a wide arc across the cool water.


	9. Altaïr - The Return

The group of wayward Assassin's; consisting of Nylah, Altaïr, Malik and their charges - Malik's Father, Ajihad and younger Brother, Jeod - trekked across the well worn paths of the Kingdom. They pushed their horses as fast as they would go, but stopped to water them often so that they did not get tired. It was during one of these stops that the troop discussed where Malik's family would hide until they could secure passage to Egypt.

"We should send them to Jerusalem." Malik said, looking over at his father and brother who were sat with the horses, looking calm as they stared into the placid blue water of the stream they had tethered the horses by.

"No." Altaïr instantly opposed this, saying "Jerusalem is too open, there is too much opportunity for ambush or attack. We should send them to somewhere small like Acre." 

Altaïr sat on the ground beside the stream and Nylah and Malik followed suit.

"No, we can't send them anywhere with an Assassin's Bureau, Al Mualim would know that we had defied his orders," Altaïr had told Nylah the details of the mission on the way out of Damascus, including the possible consequences on Malik's family in Masyaf "If Al Mualim were to find out he would kill us all, and probably Amira and Kadar too."

Malik nodded and asked the obvious question, "Where then?"

It was Malik's young brother who provided the answer when he came to sit by his older brother and see what the troop of white clad Assassin's were talking about. "Why don't we stay in the Kingdom, close to a port city? That way we are near where we need to be and are nowhere near a Bureau."

"I think you might be onto something." Altaïr said, ruffling the boys hair. He had come to like the youth as he spoke to him during their frequent water stops.

Jeod beamed with pride and Malik smiled, happy to see that his brother was accepting the situation well.

"Okay, so we ride North but stay away from Masyaf." Nylah said, standing and stretching.

"Yes, we should move now just in case anyone has seen us, Assassin's operate in this area of the Kingdom." Altaïr stood and walked to the horses, mounting a white one. He had figured that white horses would mask the starkness of their robes better, making them more inconspicuous. It was a good idea. But not if everyone else in the _entire_ Kingdom was riding _brown_ horses!

It was with the strange revelation that the world seemed to be against him today, that Altaïr checked Malik's wound and then set off, leading the group with Nylah next to him and Malik following behind his family.

***

"I will see you soon Jeod, I promise you. I will find reason to leave Masyaf and visit before you leave for Egypt. Good luck my little brother, safety and peace." With this Assassin Idiom bestowed upon his little brother - hoping it would bring Jeod the protection that it did Malik - the Assassins left Ajihad and Jeod to return to Masyaf. However their return was not to be so jubilant as it normally was. Even with the arrival of some 'fresh meat'.

...

"Nylah am Cairo, we humbly accept you into our creed. I trust you know of our customs." Al Mualim addressed the girl as she stood before the entire Israel Creed. Altaïr watched on proudly.

"Thank you, sir. I know of your customs and will abide by them, I give you my words." Nylah bowed her head to Al Mualim, showing her willingness to comply with his leadership. It was an honour to be stood before him.

"I trust that you know what your admittance into the Israel Creed means. How important this truly is?" Al Mualim asked, walking before Nylah and taking in her small appearance. It was amazing that Egypt had let this small girl train as an assassin.

"I do, sir. I am honoured." Nylah spoke in turn, keeping her rebellious side to a minimum; she did not wish to be killed for treason or mutiny.

"Very well, Nylah. Welcome, my child. Walk by faith and not by sight, where so many are bound by conscience remember that nothing is true and where so many are bound by law remember that everything is permitted." Al Mualim embraced the girl before turning to his best, stood beside the girl looking at her with pride.

"Now onto other matters." He muttered, so only the people stood before him could hear.

"Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad, step forward." Altaïr did as commanded, confused by what was happening.

"I wish to speak of your actions in Damascus with the Creed present."

Altaïr cut across Al Mualim as he paused, "I did as I was asked."

"No, you did as you pleased! Malik has told me of the arrogance you displayed when arriving at the _Bureau_ with this girl, your… disregard for our ways!" Al Mualim flicked his index finger towards Altaïr and two Assassins grabbed him by his elbows, holding him as he struggled for a second before facing Al Mualim again.

"What are you doing?" He cried.

"There are rules!" Al Mualim exclaimed "We are nothing if we do not abide by the Assasyun's Creed! Three simple tenets, which you seem to forget. I will remind you. First and foremost, _stay your blade -_ "

"- _From the flesh of an innocent._ I know." Altaïr was rewarded for his interruption with a slap. The back of Al Mualim's hand connected solidly with Altaïr's face, his jewel's biting into the Assassin's skin.

"And stay your tongue, lest I give you leave to use it! If you are so familiar with this tenet then why did you kill the guards, they were not Templars? They were innocent, they did not need to die! Your insolence knows no bounds! Make humble your heart, child, or I _swear_ I'll tear it from you with my own hands…!" Al Mualim paced before the restrained assassin, clearly agitated.

"The second tenet is that which gives us strength. _Hide in plain sight._ Let the people mask you such that you become one with the crowd. Do you remember? Because as I hear it you chose to expose yourself, drawing attention by aiding the girl!" Al Mualim sighed, clearly disappointed.

"The third and final tenet… the _worst_ of all your betrayals. _Never compromise the Brotherhood._ It's meaning should be obvious; your actions must **never** bring harm upon us, direct or indirect! Yet your selfish actions in Damascus placed us all in danger! Worse _still,_ you brought another to our home! Assassin or no, she was an outsider! Every problem that arose in Damascus was because of **you** and your careless actions!" The old man drew a short blade from his belt, bringing it around to show the gathered crowd.

"I am sorry. Truly I am… but I cannot abide a traitor."

"I am not a traitor." Altaïr's voice was low, almost a growl. Nylah looked at him and saw that his head was hanging, his face pulled back into his hood. Suddenly his head shot up to look Al Mualim directly in the eye.

"Your actions indicate otherwise. And so you leave me no choice. Peace be upon you, Altaïr." He sighed and stepped forward, holding the blade solidly in his hand and preparing to stab the boy he had once called a son. Altaïr was stunned.

"Malik." Altaïr screamed, stopping Al Mualim in his tracks and pulling free of the Assassin's holding him and climbing from his knees, where the assassin's pushed him only a second ago "Where is Malik, come forward."

Malik stepped from the crowd "What do you bring me forward for, Brother?" He stood before Altaïr boldly, hiding any insecurity he may have been feeling.

"You betrayed me brother, after I have helped you so readily in every situation - AS A BROTHER SHOULD! - you have betrayed my trust in you." Altaïr advance but then stopped.

"The Master asked me of you and the girl, how you met. I could not lie to him, Altaïr. He has been father, brother and ally to me since I came to the Assassin's seeking refuge. I could not betray his trust." Malik's face was covered with a mask of sincere regret and Altaïr knew, deep down, that in the face of the Master he would have wavered in the same way. It did not, however, excuse his betrayal. As it would not were he the betrayer.

"Fine, I understand. Do what you will, father, and I will do nothing to stop you. But know that I will not let this go unpunished in the next life. I will remember your face, Malik Al-Sayf." He turned back to Al Mualim, holding out his arms for the Assassin's to grasp. They made to hold him again but Al Mualim ordered them to stand down.

There was a moment of complete silence before the courtyard erupted in roars at the confusing events before them, Al Mualim held up a hand to silence them.

"You accept your death willingly Altaïr, that tells me that you have nothing to hide from me and therefore there is no reason to kill you, a true brother accepts his fate and trusts in his fellows but be warned, if you should endanger the Brotherhood again I will not be so _lenient_." Al Mualim turned away after nodding to Nylah who had been had back after she tried to rush to Altaïr's aid moments ago.

Her captor let her go and she rushed to Altaïr's side. The rest of the brothers began to move from the courtyard and go about their daily business as normal, but one remained.

"Altaïr, I am truly sorry." Malik walked up the steps from the lower courtyard and approached Altaïr. Nylah turned on him.

"Malik, how could you do that? After all Altaïr has done to help you." She shook her head and turned back to Altaïr. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine. Malik, do not be sorry, it is not your fault. And Nylah, do not be so quick to condemn him, the Master is a hard man to deceive. Malik had no choice. I am sorry for my harsh words brother." Altaïr walked over to Malik and embraced him.

Malik nodded, "I am sorry brother, I will stay my tongue in the next life. I would not have known what to do if he had killed you, and Nylah would have been impossible to live with." Nylah looked stunned.

"Now that is not fair, Malik." The three Assassin's laughed, as if one had not just betrayed another. As if dying was a part of everyday life.

'Well you know what they say', Nylah's thought was interrupted by Altaïr saying "You only live once, but you die a thousand times." Malik nodded but Nylah looked at him, shocked.

"Are you a mind reader, Altaïr?"


	10. Nylah - Names and Connections

"Nylah, now that we are safe again, I've been thinking." Nylah and Altaïr sat on the wall of the fortress of Masyaf, looking out over the village and the surrounding countryside.

"Hmm." Nylah breathed deeply, enjoying the clean air, it made a huge difference from the rotten stinking city of Damascus.

"I think that it is time you had a name." Altaïr sat quietly, waiting for Nylah's reaction.

"Oh, yes? And what were you thinking for this name." Nylah looked across at Altaïr from her spot on the raised battlement next to his.

"Nylah Yachiyd-Echad."

"The Lone One…" Nylah paused, thinking "I like it." She smiled, looking over at Altaïr then she looked to the top of the nearest guard tower. "I'll race you." She laughed, jumping up.  
Altaïr smiled wanly and followed her, humouring her enthusiastic side. He actually found himself envious of her; of the unerring enthusiasm she showed for any situation what-so-ever.

...

The last week since they got arrived back at Masyaf had been hard on Altaïr and Nylah. First and foremost there was much scrutiny for Nylah as she was both an outsider and a female; many of the Brothers refused to trust her and as a result there was discord among them. Nylah refused to trust any Brother naïve enough to think that she could not be trusted simply because she was of the opposite gender.

Altaïr was receiving much hostility from the brothers as it was his fault that Nylah was there at all, but for Altaïr the hostility was a little harder to bear as he had lived with the Israel Brotherhood for most of his life and knew every Brother by name and sight. However, he managed to deal with it, he knew that he had made the right decision bringing Nylah back to the Brotherhood.

Al Mualim was keeping a watchful eye over both Nylah and Altaïr, fearful that they were causing too much of a stir amongst the other Assassin's.

He called them both up to his office in the Library, saying he wished to 'send them away on a mission together'. What he really meant was that he wanted them out of Masyaf.

"You cannot do that, father." Altaïr said calmly as he stood before Al Mualim, his head bowed in respect.

"Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do boy, it is disrespectful at best." Al Mualim fumed as he paced before the pair of Assassin's.

"I think it is best that we relocate you both. I have arranged for you to travel to Egypt and live with the Assassin's of Giza. You will, however, still wear the robes of Masyaf and represent the heart of the creed." Al Mualim walked to a shelf behind his desk. He handed both Nylah and Altaïr a leather cord with five square silver beads knotted into it, "Remember our creed, my children. You leave for Egypt five days hence."

***

"How could he do this to us?" Altaïr muttered calmly, walking back and forth on the battlements where he and Nylah spent most of their times.

"He had no choice, Altaïr. We have been causing a stir amongst his brothers, he can't have that. There'll be mutiny if we stay here much longer under his order." Nylah reasoned with her clearly irate friend.

"It's not the point, he has been like a father to me for most of my life. This is the highest disrespect, especially considering-" Altaïr stopped his rant mid-sentence and Nylah turned to look at him. He stood in shock, staring at the floor.

"Considering what?" Nylah said softly, walking towards Altaïr.

"Considering how he was with my father." Altaïr said sadly.

"Your father… but- I thought-" Nylah tried to make sense of what Altaïr was saying but he spoke first.

"My father was an Assassin, I lied when I said I had never known him. I am the 'Son of None' simply because I did not wish to know him. My father was ruthless and unkind to many. When I was younger I looked up to him as an honourable man who did what was necessary. He was not a happy man, generally.

"Yet there was one day when he came home with a smile on his face and said he had helped a person that day. I didn't believe him until recently. He told me the story of a young girl who's mother had bargained her life for her child's. He said that he had brought the child to a friend, Samara. I was only young then, maybe two, so I did not fully understand what he was saying. All I knew was that my father was smiling, that had to be a good sign.

"When I was six my view of my father changed dramatically, I realised that he was uncaring and enjoyed being ruthless. He enjoyed being a murderer. It was then that I vowed never to be like him.

"Look how well that turned out." Altaïr sighed and turned to Nylah.  
"The girl… it was-"

"You, Nylah. The girl was you. You are the proof that my father had a heart." Altaïr turned to the teenager, his face a picture of sadness.

"I am sorry Altaïr, had I known I would have-" Nylah was cut off again, this time by Altaïr's protests.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, it is just me being sentimental." Altaïr sighed and sat on the Battlement.

"Then that is why I thought it was you... Back in the Bureau, that is why I thought it was you who killed my mother and father. I am sincerely sorry Altaïr," Nylah sighed and sat beside him, staring out at Masyaf "I was just getting used to it here."

Altaïr nodded but said nothing.

"And what of Malik, we may never see him again."

"You will see me sooner than you think, Al Mualim is sending me to Egypt with you." Malik's voice sounded from behind the pair as he sat beside them and stared out at Masyaf. "He has given me permission to take Kadar and Amira, I intend to join up with my father and Jeod there."

Malik looked over to his friends and smiled before saying "I would like it if you would both come and live with us, aside from the Assassins?"

Nylah smiled, there was nothing she would like more than to live away from the Egypt Assassins; if they figured out who she was they would surely kill her.

"Okay Malik, we will come with you." Altaïr said before standing and saying that he was going to get some sleep and he would see them both in the morning.

Nylah sighed and climbed to the top of the guard tower, there she fell asleep in a bale of hay and was woken only by the morning sun falling on her eyelids and throwing the world into a haze of golden light.


	11. Altaïr - Battlements

"Welcome home, Nylah." Altaïr said quietly as they stepped from the ship, Malik and his family following.

"This is not my home, home is where you feel safe." Nylah said, shivering.  
"Well then treat me as home, I will let no harm come to you." Altaïr stepped a little closer to her as they walked through the port.

"I… Thank you Altaïr." Nylah said, her voice soft and her form timid as she walked beside the confident assassin.

"You need not thank me Nylah, it is just what I do." Altaïr said, following Malik as he took the lead. Altaïr's eyes remained pinned to the floor as he scanned their surroundings.  
Nylah remained silent as they walked through the main town, arriving at a majestic house.

"Malik." Ajihad stepped from the door of the building, throwing his arms around his son. Malik returned the embrace as Jeod ran from the door and hugged Malik's midriff.

"Altaïr." there was a cry from behind as Ajihad and a girl not much younger than Nylah ran from behind the hugging group. She threw her arms around the tall assassin and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Hello Amira." Altaïr said, holding her at arms length and studying her "Have you been practicing what I taught you?"

Amira nodded eagerly.

"Then you must show me, but later. Spend some time with your brother first." Amira nodded again and ran back inside the house smiling.

"An old friend." Altaïr said, answering Nylah's questioning glance "I taught her swordplay to get her out of the fortress. I have no idea how she got in there but it was very… difficult to get her to leave." Altaïr grinned, thinking back to his sparring with Amira in the courtyard of the fortress in Masyaf. His face fell.

"What is wrong?" Amira asked, stepping closer to the tall robed man.

"We will never return home again." Altaïr said, his usually strong voice had receded to a small muttering.

"Altaïr, we are safe. This is home now." Nylah said, her voice filled with regret. She sighed "I am sorry, this is all my fault."

"Again, stop saying that, it is not your fault. You need not blame yourself. We must get used to it here, I'm sure we will come to like it once we understand it. Now, we must find out 'battlements'." Altaïr said, referring to the battlements of the Masyaf Fortress.

Nylah nodded but said nothing, she was immersed in thought; her mind drifting to the many things that had happened to her recently. The only consistency in it all was Altaïr, and she was really beginning to appreciate his presence.

...

Altaïr and Nylah sat atop the local chapel. The tower stretched high above the Egyptian skyline. In the distance Nylah could see the Pyramids.

"They are curious structures. What are they?" Altaïr raised his finger and pointed to the Pyramids.

"They're the Pyramids. The old Gods and kings were buried in them so that people may come and worship them." Nylah said, leaning closer to Altaïr "That one-" She pointed "Can be climbed. I did it once. The view is magnificent."

Altaïr smiled, watching Nylah as she talked about the Pyramids and her home. It was clear that she loved Egypt, no matter how much she protested.

Nylah paused and looked at Altaïr and smiled. She continued to stare out at the Egyptian horizon but laced her fingers with Altaïr's.

"Nylah," He said quietly "The creed forbids it."

"But we're not in the creed anymore." Nylah said.

Altaïr said nothing to protest and simply sat with Nylah atop the chapel. Then the world flickered.

"Did you see that?" Nylah asked, looking around in shock.

"What?" Altaïr said, following her example and checking around.

Nylah sighed "It doesn't matter, I must have been seeing things."

Then the world went white.

...

Nylah's eyes opened fuzzily and she saw a strange place.

“Did you know that they stayed together for the rest of their lives. Some of the Codexes Altaïr made mentioned her."

Nylah shook her head, still fuzzy. She heard a person she recognised droning in the background but took no notice. Standing from the green machine she sat in, she left the room.


End file.
